


By the Beltane Fire

by Lisafer



Series: The Dickens Arc [4]
Category: Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M, may-december relationship, multi-gen romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisafer/pseuds/Lisafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months after their initial experience together, Kel and Wyldon are together on Beltane, and decide to do something about the attraction that’s still there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By the Beltane Fire

“What ever happened to letting the fire die while we feast, so one could simply jump over the embers at the end of the night?” Wyldon murmured, his eyes fixed on the crown prince and princess.

“Times are changing,” Kel replied. Her lips curved into a small smile. “And the princess has her own plethora of traditions to bring to this marriage.” 

It was Beltane – the holiday for lovers and fertility and all the other things Kel had been avoiding, for the most part, over the past few years. But being in Corus meant partaking in the festivities, if only as an observer.

Roald and Shinko were enacting one of the oldest Yamani traditions – a long and sacred dance around the fire to the precise strumming of a _shamisen_. It looked simple, but Kel knew that the intricate steps were tests of balance and poise, especially since the dancers had to keep their right hands above the flames and no more than several feet from one another; a thin string was tied to their smallest finger, and the challenge was to perform the dance perfectly without letting the flames damage – or sever, Gods forbid – their connection.

“I don’t understand its meaning,” Wyldon said with a shake of his head.

Kel had realized long ago that her former commander understood very little about the Yamani culture. But he was willing to learn, at least. “The red string, or the _akai ito_ , is a representation of a metaphor, of sorts.”

He turned to her, eyebrows raised. “I thought metaphors were supposed to be representations of reality.”

“Each person in the world is said to have a red string tied to his or her finger,” she said, ignoring his question. She found that sometimes it was easier to ignore his Neal-like comments, rather than tell him who he reminded her of. “The string is connected to someone else – a soul mate, I suppose. Someone you’re destined to be with.”

He frowned slightly, turning back to gaze upon the young couple. “So they’re testing that connection?”

“In a way. The Yamanis believe that challenges make a couple stronger.” She shrugged. “So this dance is performed beneath the moon on Beltane, so the Mother can offer fertility to the couple who can withstand any threat.”

“This _akai ito_ ,” he began, stumbling over the words, “is it limited to just one love in your life?”

Kel felt heat rise to her face, recalling the last time she’d been in the capital, and the time she had spent not actively avoiding romantic dalliances. They had not spoken of it during the week and a half she’d been back. “It’s even more limited than that,” she answered. “Two people who are tied together – they’re destined lovers, no matter the time, place or circumstances. They could be on different continents, in different centuries – but it doesn’t matter. Some believe that the string can be tangled or stretched, but will never break.”

“Obviously not those who test it with fire.”

She grinned at him. “Maybe the material one represents a practical side of the _akai ito_. It can sever and cause complications, but even at the lowest point in your relationship, there’s still love – if you look deep enough.”

The dance ended successfully as the flames died, and Shinko gave her husband a quick and rare public kiss. Taking each others’ hands, they jumped over the embers together in the Eastern fashion. This, Kel noticed, the onlookers appreciated fully. Cheers erupted from the crowd, and even the king and queen beamed at the couple.

“And perhaps we will have a spare,” Kel said, taking her eyes away from her friends to look at her companion. The crown princess had born one daughter already, but the kingdom was eager for another child.

Wyldon’s eyes were locked on hers, his expression very serious. “Do you ever intend to jump the embers with some young man?” 

“Unlikely,” she replied as casually as she could. Of all the ways to dance around the question that had lingered between them for months, this is how he chose to ask it? “The last thing a lady knight needs is a child on the way, with no husband to stay at home raising it.” She turned and began to walk away from the revelers in the palace courtyard. Couples of varying ages and ranks were taking their turns over the embers, and Kel wanted to be as far away as possible. “Did you ever do it?”

“Have children?” he asked, straight-faced. “Yes, there were four last time I counted.”

“You’re reminding me of Neal,” she said this time. It was the best way to make him stop trying to be clever, even if it did cause him to momentarily turn red with annoyance. 

“I did when I was first married,” he finally replied, when his indignation subsided. She loved the way his voice lowered when he spoke of his marriage, even though it sent shivers of doubt through her mind. He was a man who was always precise with his words, usually making his listeners feel as though they needed to pry more out of him. When speaking of Lady Vivenne, however, he was even more guarded. Kel thought maybe it was because sharing his memories made it feel like they would slip away entirely.

“And did it work?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light and playful.

“It was more than a year later when Eiralys was born, so apparently the Goddess’s intervention takes a bit of time.” He glanced around, where lovers were walking hand-in-hand, or finding other ways to prove their affection for one another. “These fools are going to get straight to work tonight, not realizing that the Merciful Mother has so much to do.”

“Well, in that case, since it’s not really a risk…” Kel began, avoiding his gaze. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

“I don’t think she would even notice, with all those who’ve appealed to her favor.” His voice had dropped even lower. Almost husky.

“I don’t have orders for another week,” Kel practically whispered. It was her way of dancing around the question that had plagued her mind since Midwinter. 

“And I leave for Cavall in a week’s time,” he answered. He stepped into the shadow of a palace wall, pulling her along with him. They stood motionless, his hands still holding firmly onto her arms. “Are we to continue where we left off?” His gaze was as direct as his question. 

Kel swallowed thickly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to,” she said, the relief in her voice stronger than the tremors of fear and excitement that assaulted the rest of her.

“I told you then that I wasn’t interested in just one night of romance.”

“It was six nights.”

“I’m interested in more than that.” 

“And what happens when I go to Northwatch, Wyldon?” Kel asked, feeling defeated when practicality won its struggle with romance. “And you go to Cavall? Are we to write letters full of longing and play the part of star-crossed lovers?”

“We will meet again, Keladry. It’s not as though your border patrol will last an eternity.”

“Everything could change by the time I return.”

“Do you think we’re that fickle?” His eyebrows climbed higher up his forehead. “We’re the two most steadfast people you’ll ever meet.”

She only wished he were right. “I-I’ve been known to lose that stability in the face of an attractive man,” she confessed. 

“The string can tangle or stretch,” he reminded her, “but it will never break.” In the cover of darkness, he kissed her tenderly and carefully, like the first one they had ever shared. “Stay with me tonight, Keladry.”

_And every night until I leave_ , she knew. It was too late for caution; she had made that decision at Midwinter, when they’d first fallen into bed together. “All right,” she answered, “but tomorrow night we stay in _my_ rooms.”


End file.
